


after dark

by hideandseek (jangjoos)



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Vampire Hunters, geonhak is a panicked gay, seoho is a little shit, vampire!hwanwoong, witch!youngjo, youngjo is also a panicked gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-03-29 16:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jangjoos/pseuds/hideandseek
Summary: Dongju knew nothing about their night jobs. He never asked, didn't seem to want to know. Geonhak found it amusing. The kid probably thought they were strippers or something.--In which Seoho and Geonhak are vampire hunters, and one day, a hunt goes wrong.





	1. geonhak

Geonhak climbed over the wire fence that blocked off the alleyway. Once down, he spun his sharpened stake in his hand, brandishing it, then scanned the area.

Streetlights were few and far between, casting dim light upon wherever they shone. The alley itself was almost completely dark, and the moon was a waxing gibbous in the sky. Almost full, but not quite. This provided some relief; vampires tended to be stronger on nights with fuller moons. But darkness usually played to the vampires’ advantage. They could melt into shadows, dash at superhuman speeds, disappear like mist. In total darkness, a vampire could appear next to you within split seconds. You wouldn’t even have time to scream before it dragged you out and into the night.

Within the alley, amongst the piles of litter behind the fence, something rustled. A shadow crossed his line of sight; small, likely that of some poor alley cat.

But there was something else. A _click_ of steel-toed shoes, a quiet chuckle that could’ve easily dissipated in the air.

“Seoho?” Geonhak called out.

But Seoho was not there. Seoho was off on the other side of the street, had broken off to investigate a trail of human bloodstains.

The quiet chuckle grew into loud, maniacal cackling. Geonhak froze. Before he had time to think, the vampire apparated before his eyes.

Vampires often ventured into daylight. Most survived on donor blood and voluntary feedings from human family. They rarely, if ever, killed, trying their best to blend into human society. Those ones were of little concern to the government and vigilantes. But this one had the pale skin of a coven vampire, the type that hid away with kin and only lurked when it was time to hunt.

“Don’t run, little pig,” it snarled, “I’ll make this quick.”

It grinned, revealing canines that were obscenely long even for its kind, gleaming wickedly in the sparse moonlight.

When it lunged, Geonhak jumped out of the way, kicking aside a pile of discarded cans. It lunged harder, struck like a rattlesnake. When Geonhak jumped again, it hissed in frustration. Arrogant. Clumsy. Irritable. Power-drunk and unfocused. It moved in a way that favored theatrics over practicality and skill.

Theatrics wasn’t always indicative of inexperience. Take Seoho, for example. He spun his crossbow, did blind shots, backward shots, ricochet shots. He did backflips, jumped off walls,  but he could always be counted on to land a kill. What made him different was that he knew to use it to his advantage, never did anything purely for show. As well, he was always great at reading the situation, knew when he could play around and when he had to get serious.

To the vampire's credit, it managed to catch Geonhak off-guard once. Sharp teeth scraped at his skin, but he quickly lunged back at the monster, stabbing his stake into its sternum. He felt himself break skin but was stopped by one of its ribs. Dark blood flowed and fell upon the concrete.

Geonhak swore to himself. He was never one for theatrics himself, never the type to draw out a hunt. He stabbed the place that would kill the quickest and went on his merry way. In this case, there had been a lapse of judgment. Missing the heart, no matter how grievous the damage was otherwise, was never a good sign.  Vampires hardly felt pain, healed at an insane rate.

And then, before the vampire could lunge again, before Geonhak could pull his stake out of its chest--

_Thud._

It froze, doubling down for a moment before coughing out blood. Seven more _thuds_ in rapid succession and it fell onto its knees.

Seoho walked out of the darkness in a way that was almost casual. He pulled a silver bolt out of his quiver and grabbed the vampire by the back of its neck. Before it could cry out, he drove the weapon up its rib cage and into its heart. Blood oozed its way onto Seoho's shirt. The vampire’s body collapsed onto a trash bag, twitching grotesquely in death.

“Try not to get so close next time,” Seoho said, unloading his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’d hate to lose you.”

Geonhak crouched down to pull his stake out of the vampire’s flesh. It was almost covered to the end with blood. He sighed. That was going to be a very tedious cleaning job.

“Kill-stealer,” he accused, to which Seoho winked.

“Get good, scrub.”

He, like most vigilante hunters, preferred ranged weapons. Geonhak did not, finding the idea of leaving bloody bolts at the scene unappealing. Hand-held stakes were fine, but came at the cost of getting up close and engaging in melee combat. He’s had close calls in the past, but he liked to think that he got stronger, got _better_ with every hunt that passed.

As Geonhak put his stake back into his lockbox, an alley cat leaped up onto the fence. It glanced at them with glowing eyes, flicked its tail almost judgmentally.

Despite himself, Geonhak shivered.

“Come on,” Seoho yawned, stretching out his arms. “I want to register this thing before the sun comes up.”

 

By the time they got back, the lights were still on. Dongju was up. He sat in the living room, flipping through his notes with an apathetic sort of vigor-- like he _really_ wanted to pass, but he could care less at this point and was honestly probably fucked. Geonhak knew that feeling well from his college days. He did not envy Dongju in the slightest.

“We’re home!” Seoho burst in and announced, ruffing Dongju’s hair on his way to the kitchen. “Did you miss us?”

“Always.” Dongju didn’t even look up.

Seoho frowned as he opened the pantry. “I don’t know if I like your attitude, young man.”

“I didn’t know what to do without you.” Still that same idle, flippant tone. Geonhak held back a laugh.

Seoho and Geonhak had been roommates long before they took Dongju in. Back then, Dongju was a freshman, desperate to escape from his roommate following some incident involving frogs and a large quantity of coca-cola. After he moved in, the three of them clicked. Despite his age, Dongju was organized, mature, and capable. Meanwhile, Geonhak and Seoho were human disasters that shared a single brain cell. To their credit, Geonhak was patient and diligent, and Seoho was clever, had an easier way around everything. They each had quite a bit to learn from one another.  Two years later, Geonhak could confidently say that he would die for Seoho, that he loved Dongju as if he were his own child.

All this considered, Dongju still knew nothing about their night jobs. He never asked, didn't seem to want to know. Geonhak found it amusing. The kid probably thought they were strippers or something.

“Geonhak-ah, do you want ramen?”

“Don’t burn it,” Geonhak muttered tiredly.

Dongju whipped his head around. “Have you actually burned _ramen_ before?”

“It was one time!” Seoho threw up his hands. “Do you want any?”

Dongju shook his head, wrinkling his nose. Seoho launched into a string of huffs and complaints.

Was it one in the morning? Two? He couldn’t tell. Summer nights were short, so it couldn’t have been too late, but they had left at around eleven. Getting there took an hour, and tracking the vampire took another. Nevertheless, it was late and Geonhak hadn’t slept. He sank into the couch and felt himself drift.

He snapped awake when Seoho set down a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. Thankfully, it did not smell burnt in the slightest.

“Food’s ready, sleepyhead.”

Seoho went back to grab his own bowl, then sat down on the couch next to him, booting up the television. None of them had Netflix, so there was hardly ever anything to watch. They mostly used it as a monitor for Dongju’s Switch and occasionally Seoho’s fancy PC rig. There was also a Playstation, though Geonhak and Seoho were subject to fighting over it like children. Dongju eventually grew tired of this, setting up a schedule so that there would be no more squabbling. It worked for about a solid week. These days, the two of them usually compromised by playing co-op, though that sometimes lead to even more squabbling.

Dongju closed his book.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced. “I don't feel too good."

“What about your exam?” Seoho asked.

The television was now playing some public news channel. Apparently, another vampire attack had happened through the night. The city had already put a contract on it. It wasn’t a bad sum and Geonhak thought that they could consider taking it.

One had to be careful with larger sums. When the city was willing to offer more, it meant that they were expecting people to fail, to die. That it gave them a bigger problem than most.

Dongju waved him off. “I can study before noon.”

“Procrastination is never a good habit, Dongju.”

“You’re not my mom.”

The anchor continued to talk. Seems like this wasn’t the only victim they could chalk up to this particular vampire. Its signs and tracks lined up neatly with the disappearances of two more citizens around Moonlight Avenue.

“Like you never procrastinate,” Geonhak said, putting an arm around Seoho. “Get well soon, kiddo.”

Seoho sputtered in defense, but they both ignored him. Dongju held up a peace sign as he walked into his bedroom.

Nothing else on the vampire attacks. Now, some talk show was on. The guest was some grizzled old politician that didn’t bother to laugh at any of the host’s dry jokes. There was a laugh track, but it felt more like consolation than anything else.

Seoho held out the remote and shut it off.

“I’m bored. You up for a round of Overwatch?”

“You’ll just steal my kills.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Geonhak shook his head. “It’s been a long night.”

Seoho’s puppy eyes worked sometimes, but not now. Geonhak was almost too tired to even notice them, and when he did, he simply waved Seoho off.

 

The next day, while he was on his way to the grocery store, a cat crossed Geonhak’s path.

It was black from head to tail, and when Geonhak saw it cross the street, he slammed the brakes so hard that his vehicle almost drifted into the curb. It continued to walk, seemingly unbothered, blissfully unaware of the fact that it just stood a whisker away from death’s door.

Geonhak took a deep breath. If cats didn’t really have nine lives, they sure acted as they did. As soon as the cat reached the other side, he kept driving.

The grocery wasn’t too far from the complex. It was one of those local places, quaint and modest, a sharp contrast to the other businesses in the area. Moonlight Avenue was a district studded with establishments dedicated to spellwork and commercial magicks of all branches. Essentially, it was the city’s witchcraft hotspot.

However, the humble little grocery store wasn’t quite as normal as it seemed. It didn’t take a genius to realize that there was something weird about the cashier. When she walked, her feet trembled as if trying to hold herself back, trying not to move as fast as she was used to. When she spoke, she had a lisp, as if wearing dentures.

In his line of work, Geonhak had become attuned to the little things that gave a vampire away. Over time, he learned to ignore them, treat them like he would any other person he met.

They were just that. People with an unfortunate condition trying to live a normal life. The city had the police force, but their police force wasn’t equipped well enough to deal with criminals like that. Sending them out would be a risk, and losing so many highly-trained professionals was expensive, so they relied on civilians.

In a morbid way, it made sense. Vigilantes were, by definition, criminals anyway, so why should the city care if they died fighting vampires? At best, it meant that the monsters were being dealt with, and at worst, it meant that maybe two humans died to this particular vampire on this particular night rather than one. On a large scale, it wasn’t much of a difference. There were few professionals willing to hunt vampires, and plenty of civilians far more than willing, whether it was due to necessity or a personal sense of justice.

Where Geonhak was the former, Seoho was the latter.

“Oh-- sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Geonhak looked around himself. Apparently, while he was lost in thought, he hadn’t realized that he was standing in the middle of the ramen aisle.

“It’s quite alright,” Geonhak said. “No, I’m sorry. I’m blocking the way.” He moved aside and let him pass.

The stranger had dark hair, styled in a manner that was tastefully ruffed while still appearing put-together. He was dressed black from head to toe, complete with a frayed denim jacket, stood with a bit of a casual slouch.

He shot Geonhak a smile. “All good. Stuck on what ramen to get?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. Not really. I’m just. Ruminating.” Geonhak paused for a second, about to make the biggest mistake of his life. “ _Ramen_ ating, if you will.”

To that train wreck of a joke, he let out a hearty chuckle. Was it pity? Genuine humor? Geonhak wasn’t completely sure, and he hated that he wasn’t sure.

“Cool. Have fun with that.”

As the man left the aisle, Geonhak mentally sucker punched himself. Ramenating? Really? Seoho has been a fantastically bad influence on him. He made a note to spend less time around him. It would prove a perilous feat, attempting to avoid his roommate, best friend, and hunting partner for the last three years, but by God will he manage it. If only to avoid embarrassing himself in front of any more tall, dark, and handsome dudes.

Hang on. The man hadn’t been that tall. He was around the same height as Geonhak, at most a centimeter taller. Dark, yeah, he was wearing black, had the fashion sense of a model, but _handsome--_

Geonhak buried his face in his hands. His head was throbbing.

He did _not_ have time for this.

 

 

Seoho was playing a game in the living room. It was Breath of the Wild, which Geonhak found weird because Dongju normally never let either of them, especially Seoho, use his Switch without his strict supervision. Geonhak then came to the more likely conclusion that Dongju was out and Seoho didn’t actually get permission at all.

“Geonhak! Just in time. Did you get the ramen?”

Geonhak blinked. “The what?”

Then, he brought his palm to his forehead. The ramen. Of course. He had gone to the grocery store because they were running out of it. However the hell he had managed to come back empty-handed was a mystery for the ages.

Seoho paused the game.

“I can’t believe you. I trusted you.”

“Hold on. I can go back--”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. We have some left. I’d hate to have you take two trips.”

“I thank you for your mercy,” Geonhak drawled out. He wandered into the kitchen.

“Hey, Seoho? Do you happen to have any aspirin?”

Seoho had turned the game back on, it seems. Battle music was echoing across the apartment accompanied by several of Link’s signature grunts.

“Aspirin? Yeah. There should be a bottle in the mirror cabinet.” He turned around for a moment. “Why? You feeling alrig-- shit, did I just kill that horse?”

Geonhak shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s a little headache.”

“Cool cool.” Seoho then let out a groan. “Man, Dongju’s gonna be _so_ pissed.”

“I’ll pray for you.” Geonhak patted Seoho on the head before heading into the bathroom.

The aspirin was not, in fact, in the mirror cabinet, but Geonhak managed to find it after a bit of rummaging through the drawers. He swallowed a tablet, then resolved to make some lunch. Dongju was due to return from his exam any minute now. As for Geonhak, he was feeling weirdly famished for this time of the day.

Ramen? No. They were running out. They still had a bag of frozen fish cakes. Maybe some fried rice?

That night, Geonhak and Seoho had plans to go after the vampire on the news. That one hadn’t exactly been careful with covering its tracks, so there was no shortage of leads for the two of them to follow. Better to ensure apt nutrition before a hunt.

“Food’s ready,” Geonhak called out. Seoho practically teleported over to the kitchen.

 

Seoho was right. When Dongju came back and booted up his Switch, he was pissed. Infuriated, even.

At first, it hadn’t seemed too bad. Dongju had looked over at Seoho, glowered a bit, then refused to communicate to either of them for two solid hours, save for the time he gestured at Geonhak to pass the salt at the table. But with Dongju, it could only get worse from there. And perhaps that was why Seoho insisted that they leave so early.

Despite the fact that the sun had barely begun to set, Midnight Avenue was a very different place late in the day. The length of the street was dotted with colorful lights. Fairy lights strung across store signs. Streetlights that glowed with a purple sheen. Windows that betrayed mood lighting in all colors of the spectrum. It was a lot busier, too; foot traffic wove seamlessly around the few cars and bikes parked along the street.

“Hey,” Geonhak said, squeezing Seoho’s hand. “There’s time. Wanna get our fortunes read?”

Seoho’s eyes lit up. Although he never exactly got around to studying them, Seoho always showed a deep fascination towards the arcane arts. On some days, Geonhak had to take care as not to trip over Seoho’s magic books on his way to his room.

“Which store? That one?” Seoho pointed over to a storefront with a black cat painted over its entrance.

Geonhak grinned. “Let’s go in.”

Those who owned magical establishments tended to stick with the aesthetic. This store, however, seemed to be an exception. It rather reminded Geonhak of a vinyl store or a retro-themed cafe. The walls were cluttered with posters and paintings. Upon the counter, carved from wood and painted back, stood a crystal ball, a bell, and a small statue of a black cat.

The bell was charmed. When Seoho rang it, a soft melody played across the room. Immediately, someone began to run down the stairs.

As it turned out, the witch who ran the shop was none other than Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

“Oh! You found my shop!” He shot Geonhak a grin. Geonhak fought back the urge to dig himself a hole and hide inside of it for the rest of time.

Seoho blinked at Geonhak. “You know him?”

“We met earlier today,” Tall, Dark, and Handsome said cheerily. “Oh, how rude of me. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Youngjo, witch and diviner.”

Tall- _Youngjo_ took Geonhak’s hand and oh God-- his hands were so, so warm. Soft, too. Geonhak buffered for a second before realizing that he was supposed to shake it.

“Nice to meet you!” Seoho chirped. He shook Youngjo’s hand as well. “I’m Seoho, and my friend here is Geonhak. Pardon him, he’s a bit shy.”

Seoho looked over and-- did he just _wink_? Geonhak was going to kill him. Geonhak was going to take a stake and shove it up Seoho’s rib cage before doing the same to himself.

“Charmed,” Youngjo replied. “How can I help you today?”

Geonhak silently thanked the heavens for the fact that he no longer had to refer to him as _Tall, Dark, and Handsome_ in his head.

“We’re here to get our fortunes read,” Geonhak said, trying his damned best to keep his voice from shaking. “Do you do that here?”

“Sure do! Right this way.”

Youngjo lead them over to a smaller room at the back. This room was more of what generally came to mind when one thought of a magic shop. A crystal ball, a real one, sat in the center of a simple table, next to a set of cards and some string. The room was dim, the only source of light being a chandelier lit with purple flames. Shadows danced across the walls.

“Alright,” Youngjo sat down on the chair at the other end of the table. “Who wants to go first? Or is this a couple reading?”

“No,” Geonhak said, a little too quickly. Did he imagine it, or did Youngjo’s eyes just light up? “Not a couple. Seoho, do you wanna go first?”

Seoho nodded excitedly. He was instructed to pick a few cards from the deck. Youngjo examined them carefully, then whispered a spell.

The crystal ball lit up. Geonhak expected to see images, however, there were none. There was smoke, indiscernible colors, lines resembling threads cutting across a foreign landscape of glass and mist.

Youngjo studied the landscape, completely and utterly focused. He whispered another spell. Suddenly, the string on the table began to move.

One end curled itself around Seoho’s thumb. The other end grew longer for a moment before fraying, splitting off into two threads.

“Ah,” said Youngjo. “Big decisions. Something’s gonna shake up the way you see the word. Pretty common in young’ uns like you.”

Seoho frowned. “ _Young’un_? You don’t look much older than me.”

Youngjo shrugged. “What can I say? I aged well.”

The string stopped floating and fell to the ground.

“What else did you see? What about my love life?” Seoho pestered.

“Love life? Well, you’ll meet someone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“When? Who? What do they look like? Are they rich-”

Youngjo held out his hands. “You’re asking a lot of questions there, young’ un. I can only tell you what I know. And I know your string’s gonna meet another-- most do, but I don’t know when, I don’t know who, and I don’t know how long it’ll last. Sorry.”

Seoho pouted and sank back into his chair.

Geonhak’s never had a reading himself, didn’t really believe in fate, so he didn’t exactly know what to expect.

At first, the same things happened. He picked a few cards from the deck. The crystal ball lit up. A piece of string tied itself to his thumb. But then, while the string grew, it didn’t split like Seoho’s did, didn’t fall to the ground. It kept growing, showed no signs of slowing down.

Youngjo looked at the string, then at him.

“Interesting. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

But Youngjo’s eyes told a different story. There was something he wasn’t telling him.

When the string finally stopped growing, it was still trying to force its way out the door.

Geonhak frowned. “What’s it doing?”

“Taking you somewhere.”

When Youngjo muttered another spell, the string finally fell limp.

“We can’t have any divination magic outside of this room. It’s too dangerous.” He looked at Geonhak and smiled. “It seems like your life will be long and prosperous, Geonhak. Congratulations.”

 

After getting their fortunes read at Youngjo’s, Seoho and Geonhak had tonkatsu for dinner. They had tonkatsu every single time it was up to Seoho. Immediately afterward, they headed out to hunt.

Although Moonlight Avenue was a beautiful sight after sunset, illuminated and shining against the night, it gradually grew less busy as darkness fell. Moonlight was unique in that it wasn’t exactly nightlife, but it blurred the line. Though most patrons dropped by during the day, the most interesting things happened late; a magician was performing fire tricks, releasing sparks into the sky and drawing “oo"s and “ah”s from a small crowd gathered before him. An enchantress hurried along the sidewalk, her dress leaving a trail of stars on the concrete.

To the average citizen, rogue vampires were a threat, but they were a threat that lay somewhere along the lines of being struck by lightning or dying in a plane crash. It was a frightening prospect, but to most, vampire attacks were a threat hidden in the confines of films and novels meant to scare. The streets grew emptier as they walked along the avenue, fewer stores open, fewer cars on the road. Even so, nobody wanted to be caught by one alone.

Geonhak and Seoho stopped right in front of a chalk outline.

“Bloodstains on the ground,” Seoho mused. “Not a clean kill.”

Geonhak nodded. Most vampires drank their victims dry. Sometimes, a few drops would fall to the ground, but never this much. Most were careful about leaving evidence behind.

“There was a struggle. Either that or this one’s a _very_ messy eater.”

“No, look at how dark it is.” Seoho crouched down. “Venal blood. Vamps drink from arteries.”

“It’s old blood. Hard to tell.”

Seoho shook his head. “It hasn’t been that long. Plus, arterial blood _spurts_. There’s a lot of blood here, but it’s in pools.”

He then stood up, paced around, and suddenly paused.

“Stop me if I sound crazy, but. I don’t think this one’s hunting for food.”

Geonhak blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s murder.” Seoho closed his eyes. “Two deaths in two nights. Unnecessary blood loss. Fangs don’t draw this much blood, so there was probably a weapon involved. All the signs are there.”

The moon was bright and full in the sky. The street was dead silent. Geonhak thought he saw something move in the corner of his eye, but when he looked over, nothing was there.

“We have to get it,” Seoho insisted. “Let’s split up. You cover the east, I’ll cover the west. If you see it, ping me immediately.”

“Wait,” Geonhak said. “That’s not safe. This one’s dangerous. I don’t think we can take it alone.”

Seoho’s eyes hardened. “Two deaths in two nights, Geonhak. There’ll only be more. We _have_ to kill it.”

For a moment that felt like an eternity, all was silent. Something whispered in the wind. A warning, perhaps?

Finally, Geonhak took a deep breath.

“Alright.”

 

His teeth. They _hurt_. When was the last time Geonhak had a toothache?  

And the _hunger..._

His head throbbed. A few more pings from Seoho-- Seoho, his hunting partner, his roommate, his _best friend_ was in trouble. The moon was bright and full in the sky. Shadows quivered, flickered in the distance. The sound of cackling rang through the district. He had to help. He couldn’t just stay here, couldn’t just _leave him--_

But Geonhak also couldn’t move. Another spasm resonated across his body. His stake fell to the ground with a dull thud. He doubled over and retched.


	2. seoho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seoho dreamed.

For a second, Seoho thought he died. 

Splitting off from Geonhak, on a full moon of all nights, had been an idiotic move. Seoho knew this even while he was walking away, even while his blood boiled with vengeance and rage. But the thing had to die. Even if he died fighting it, he would die knowing that he had, at the very least, tried. 

Some vampires killed for survival. That was fine by Seoho. But with the advent of society opening its arms to vampire inhabitants, with the ever-rising number of blood donors and even current scientific and arcane research towards developing synthetic blood, those vampires have been dwindling in number. So he hunted them, but in his mind, he was also killing for survival. He killed so that others could survive, those stumbling home from bars, those who worked late shifts. Those with nowhere to stay for the night. It was the circle of life. But killing for sport, killing for the sake of killing, killing to settle a personal vendetta-- that was a whole other game.

The west end of Moonlight Avenue could well have been the darkest part of the city. Relative to the rest of Moonlight, the place was a dead zone, especially at night. A hotspot for vampire-related disappearances. Highly risky, but of course, that didn’t stop idiots from wandering in. 

And Seoho, it seemed, was one of those idiots. 

Seoho stood underneath a streetlight and glanced around. That was his first mistake. Vampires hunted in the dark, had superior night vision. Essentially, he had just put himself underneath a spotlight, painted a target on his back. 

Seoho’s second mistake had been pulling out his crossbow. At the moment, he had convinced himself that it was a precaution. Something moving in the dark? Shoot it. Footsteps in the night? Shoot it. But in darkness, vampires were silent and invisible. Had a vampire been stalking him, it would have been impossible to notice. Had the vampire seen him pull out the crossbow, it would have either run away or slipped even further into stealth, eventually catching him off guard and disarming him. Maybe Geonhak could pull off risky kills by wrestling with the vamps, by shoving his stake into the parasite’s heart before it could latch onto his throat and suck him dry, but for Seoho, the only way to catch a vampire was to be the hunter and not the prey.

He laughed at himself. So much for being  _ experienced _ . 

“Silver bolts. How cute.”

When Seoho glanced back, red eyes glowed in the night. He immediately reached into his pocket and pinged Geonhak.

The vampire was perched on top of a ruined building behind Seoho’s streetlight. Many moons ago, the building had been a club, a place where the broken and the reckless drank and partied until they dropped. Then, they were picked off by creatures of the night. Bodies were found drained by vampires, mauled by weres, dismembered by the occasional rogue witch for illicit ingredients in illegal spells. It wasn’t hard to imagine why the city had shut it down.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, little hunter,” it hissed. 

He had his weapon out. He could shoot it. But what would it achieve? The parasite was looking straight at him. He’d fire a few bolts, but it would just dash away. Pop up behind him. There’ll be fangs at his jugular, and then it’ll be game over. 

Seoho closed his eyes. Soon, he would become one of those bodies behind the club. Would Geonhak find his remains in this spot, find his empty shell in the dumpsters, skin and bones and little else? Or, worse, would he become a missing person case? Would his friends and family wait for him for months with a sense of false hope, leave his favorite snacks on a warm bed and pray for his return?

Geonhak had not yet responded to his ping. Frantically, he hit the button a few more times.

Seoho rarely cried, but when the vampire bared its teeth, revealing jagged fangs, he broke out into sobs. When the vampire leaped at him, he thought he had died.

But he didn’t die. That sucked. Now he had to live with blood and teardrops on his favorite shirt. 

There was another one. Just as the vampire grabbed him by the shoulders and bit through his skin, another one rushed out of the darkness and pummelled it to the ground. 

Seoho took this chance to tumble away. Without the vampire’s fangs to block up the bite wounds, blood spurted from Seoho’s neck. Weakly, he lifted a hand and held it up to his throat. Venal blood didn’t usually come out in spurts, but the jugular vein was an exception. It drained copious amounts of blood from the brain back to the heart. It was unlikely that a puncture would be immediately fatal, but high pressure within the vein meant that severe blood loss was a very real and imminent concern. 

A fight between vampires was a sight to behold. The two vampires danced around each other like ghosts, disappearing into shadows and appearing once again, dodging and striking and dodging and striking. In one fluid motion, a vampire could tear out your heart and crush it underneath its feet. When facing a vampire on a full moon, a single hit meant certain death. 

The first vampire, Red Eyes, stood still for a moment, panting heavily. The second one, the one that saved Seoho’s life-- fuck, no, he didn’t get saved by vamp, it was gonna kill him anyway-- the second vampire grabbed its neck and snapped it. But that was no way to kill a vampire. You had to get to its heart and crush it, stake it, or burn it. Instead of dying, Red Eyes escaped, leaving nothing but wind and darkness in its wake. 

“Go ahead,” Seoho groaned. “Fucking drain me. I don’t care. Just make it quick.” 

The vampire looked over at him with glowing yellow eyes, hands dripping with Red Eyes’ blood. He blinked in surprise. 

Fuck, did Seoho just call a vampire  _ he _ ? 

“You know, it’s not safe for you to be out so late.” 

“No shit,” said Seoho, struggling to stand up. When his head grew light, he gasped and fell back down. 

The vampire leaned over and caught him. Seoho would have shoved him away, but he had no strength to support himself, let alone fight off a vamp. 

“Here,” he said, handing Seoho a bottle of suspicious-looking liquid. It glowed. “I’ll call an ambulance. Tell them to apply this to the bite as soon as they possibly can. Most should carry their own, but you can never be too safe.”

“Are you going to fuck off now?” 

He shook his head. “I’ll stay until they get here. The rogue might come back.” 

The vampire was right. Red Eyes was still out there somewhere; wounded, but indubitably furious. One more encounter and Seoho would be dead for sure. 

Once again, all was silent. Seoho checked his phone. Geonhak had  _ still  _ not responded to his ping. It wasn’t like Geonhak to ignore him. What if Red Eyes found him? What if Red Eyes had already  _ got  _ to him?

“My friend…” Seoho wheezed. “My friend’s still out there.” 

He had not expected the vampire to care, but the vampire immediately stood alert. 

“Where did they go?” 

Seoho described Geonhak to him. 

“He should be on the east end of Moonlight. I...I told him to go there when we split off.”

Sirens in the distance. The ambulance was finally arriving. 

“I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“Thank you,” Seoho whispered. But the vampire had already disappeared into the night.

The paramedics hauled him onto a stretcher. Then, he blacked out. 

 

 

Seoho never liked visiting hospitals. The sterile environment, the strange smells, the constant sense of clinical apathy hanging in the air. At the same time, they were places where magic and science worked together seamlessly, where clerics and doctors operated side by side. In short, medicine fascinated him, but he did not enjoy being the patient.

“Seoho!” 

Seoho sat up in his bed, shifting his IV cord. “Dongju? Is that you?”

Dongju ran over to him. 

“Are you feeling alright?” He pressed his palm against Seoho’s forehead. “God, what happened? I called you and Geonhak a million times. I--” 

“I’m fine, kid.” Seoho took Dongju’s hand and clasped it in his own. 

“Did Geonhak ever get back?” 

Dongju’s eyes darkened. He shook his head. Seoho felt something cold run down his spine. 

“I can’t reach him. The hospital called and told me they had you, but they said nothing about Geonhak.” 

Seoho closed his eyes.

“What happened? Do you remember?” Dongju urged. 

Seoho has been a hunter for a very long time. When he first met Geonhak back in college, he struck out by himself every night, recklessly challenging and staking every vampire on the contacts. It was a miracle that he even lived to tell the tale. As soon as Geonhak found out, he had practically begged him to stop. When that didn’t work, he insisted his way into hunting with him.

And that was also why they never told Dongju. Of course, Dongju had never bothered to ask, but Seoho knew that Geonhak got himself into dangerous situations, knew that if anything ever happened to him, it would ultimately be his fault. Even if Dongju had no interest in being a hunter, there was little doubt that knowledge of their jobs would have worried him.

If anything ever happened to Geonhak, it would be Seoho’s fault. And now Geonhak…

“Dongju…” Seoho choked out. “Dongju, I am so, so sorry.” 

He pulled Dongju by the hand and hugged him close. Dongju reciprocated. They stayed like that for a very long time, Seoho in Dongju’s arms and Dongju in Seoho’s. Dongju wept into Seoho’s sterile hospital gown. Seoho rarely cried, but he shed many tears, sobbed harder than what he thought he was ever capable of. 

 

 

Seoho was discharged a few days later. 

He barely recognized himself in the mirror. They have only had him on an IV drip for about a day, and the nurses made sure he ate, but the stress, the grief, long nights of crying had done a number on him.

He touched his neck. Cleric-healed wounds left no scars, though the memory of the pain lingered. The vampire’s mystery solution had never been applied to him, but one of the nurses gave him something similar. These days, medical professionals rarely had to deal with vampire attack survivors, but they also rarely had to deal with uncommon cancers, cases of diseases thought to be eradicated, rare genetic disorders. In all situations, precautions were kept just in case. 

Dongju stayed with him for as long as the hospital would allow. In that time, Seoho told him everything, told him about hunting, about his contracts, about the vampire that almost managed to drain him, and about the vampire that saved his life. Dongju, ever understanding and ever patient, listened attentively, never showed even a hint of anger or betrayal. 

Seoho might have shed a tear. He did not deserve the kid. 

The apartment felt strange, foreboding without Geonhak’s presence. Every time Seoho left his room, he expected to see Geonhak cooking in the kitchen, reading a book on the couch, or playing a game on the PS4, bitching about the faulty L2 button and how it was the sole reason for his loss. Every day, Seoho called Geonhak’s number a total of seventy times, sent him avalanches of texts and flooded his DMs. So far, none of them have been opened or read. 

Dongju did not fare much better. He still went to class, but outside of that, he barely ever left his room. Whenever Seoho walked by his door, he swore that he could hear muffled, wretched sobs, but it was not his place to intrude. Sometimes, they cried together, breaking out their best liquor and shittiest beers and making a mess out of the living room.

Seoho turned on the stove, grabbed two packs of ramen from the kitchen, a couple of eggs from the fridge. They have eaten the same ramen every meal for the past four days.

He called Dongju over for dinner, and they ate in silence. 

Suddenly, Seoho froze, setting his chopsticks down on the dining table.

“I’m going to find Geonhak.” 

Dongju blinked. “But Seoho-” 

“I’m better now. Cured, right? I feel fine. It’s a new moon. If I see a vamp, I’ll kill it. They’ll be weak.” 

“I don’t think-”

A single tear fell into Seoho’s ramen. Ew.

“I have to. I have to try, Dongju.” Seoho drummed his fingers on the table, trying his best to keep himself from going frantic. “We don’t know what happened to him. We don’t know if he’s-- at the very least, I can find his--”

Dongju covered his ears. “Seoho. Stop.” 

Seoho looked into Dongju’s eyes. A pregnant pause fell upon the room. It was a test of will, and neither Seoho nor Dongju were in the habit of failing them. Neither was Geonhak, for that matter; in fact, that was why Seoho had been drawn to Geonhak, why Geonhak had been drawn to Dongju, and why Dongju had been drawn to Seoho. The three of them, although very different, shared a very similar sense of will. 

Then, finally, Dongju took a deep breath.

“Alright. Fine.” 

Suddenly, Seoho felt a very intense rush of deja-vu. 

  
  


The sky was dark. 

Ironically, moonless nights tended to be safer. Not so much to civilians, but to people with the tools, the experience, people prepared enough to deal with the threats that came with the darkness. Supernatural creatures all carried fragments, residual traces of magic within them. And the moon was a source, the strongest known to man. When the moon reflected sunlight to the earth, she imbued the light with raw, primal magic.

At least, that was what Seoho understood. Magic was a complex and convoluted subject that required years to understand, let alone perform. Of all the time he spent fascinated by it, studying it, reading about it, he could really only grasp the most basic of surface concepts. 

Instead of his crossbow, Seoho had brought one of Geonhak’s stakes. Crossbows were good for hunting, but they were usually only effective with the element of surprise, not so much on the defensive. Seoho did not intend to hunt, expected to only have to act defensively, if at all. 

The east end of Moonlight was very different from the west. For one, it was not as much of a ghost town. A few clubs opened late, a couple of magic shops advertised themselves with blinking signs and neat illusions. 

Seoho wandered around for a bit. 

If he were Geonhak, where would he go? 

He kicked a can across the street. It went towards an alley between two buildings, melting into darkness as it rolled away.

Aha.

Seoho slunk into an alleyway about a block away from the busiest club. A wild guess, but it was far enough from the club that nobody there would be able to hear you scream, just close enough that stragglers and drunkards would still wander the vicinity. Geonhak was smart, practical, and adept; he knew how to think like a vampire. Knew which parts they went and which parts they would avoid. 

Sure enough, after a bit of rummaging, Seoho found a stake on the ground. 

He picked it up. It was, to his surprise, completely clean. No stains, no marks, hell, there weren’t even any scratches or chips.

So. Either Geonhak had gone down without a fight, or he hadn’t encountered a vampire at all. 

The first seemed highly unlikely. After all, a good hunter never let a vampire sneak up on them--

“Hey.”

Seoho reached into his pocket and gripped the stake he had brought. Someone walked out of the darkness, into the sparse light of the city and the stars.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

So, apparently, Seoho was not a very good hunter. Luckily for him, this was the vampire he had met on West Moonlight, the one that had chased Red Eyes away. His yellow eyes were not as intense as they had been, perhaps owing to the effect of the full moon. While not alert, not in combat, his movements were surprisingly languid, surprisingly relaxed.

“What do you want?” Seoho asked drily. 

The vampire leaned up against the wall.

“I saved your life, and now I’m telling you I have your friend. You’re not even going to ask me my name?”

_ I have your friend.  _ Seoho’s breath hitched in his throat. 

“Where is he? What happened to him? Why the fuck can’t I reach him?”

The vampire rolled his eyes. “I’m Hwanwoong. It’s nice to meet you, hunter. And you are?”

“Seoho,” Seoho almost sobbed. “Please. You have to tell me. I’ve been-- we thought he--”

Hwanwoong blinked.

Of course. Why did Seoho ever think that a vampire could hold human life to any sort of value?

“Good news, then. He’s alright. For now.” Hwanwoong stood up and leaped to the top of a building next to the alleyway, faster than Seoho’s eyes could follow.

“But. He was starving. I had to confiscate him.” He smiled lazily. “Think of it as Child Protective Services.” 

Seoho froze. “What?”

Hwanwoong leaped down again. Now, he was directly in front of Seoho’s face, and Seoho had to fight back the urge to pull out the stake and stab a motherfucker. 

“Look, I know you’re a hunter and all, but starvation seems like a very ineffective way to kill a vampire. Especially a newborn. They can go a  _ long  _ time before their first feeding.” 

Seoho brought both hands up to his shoulders as if holding himself in a tight hug. “What?” 

“I’m joking, of course.” Hwanwoong turned his back. “You didn’t know, did you?”

Geonhak. Starving. Newborn.  _ Vampire _ .

At the lack of response, Hwanwoong looked back and frowned. He tried to put a hand on Seoho’s shoulder, but retracted it quickly after Seoho recoiled from his touch. 

“Look. I’m sorry. This is probably a lot to process,” he said. 

_ A lot  _ hardly covered it. Seoho’s entire world was crashing down on his head.

“But he’s safe. He’s with us, and he’s being fed. He’s not stable just yet, but it’ll get better.” 

A pause. “I promise.”

And in Hwanwoong’s eyes, Seoho saw something. Not his irises and their yellow glow, nor the illusion that he was human, because he was not, and that was a fact. It was something Seoho saw in Dongju, in Geonhak, and in his own reflection. 

_ I’ll make sure he’s safe,  _ Hwanwoong had told him. And had he not kept his promise?

Seoho nodded mutely. 

“Keep meeting me here,” Hwanwoong urged. “I’ll keep you updated.” 

And then, once again, Hwanwoong disappeared into the night. 

At the end of the alleyway, a black cat glared at Seoho with glowing eyes. It lifted a paw and licked it serenely. They stared each other down for a long time before the feline finally stood up and padded away. 

Seoho frowned. Had it been there the whole time? 

 

Seoho burst into the apartment. The television was open and Dongju was sitting in the living room, flipping through channel after channel. It didn’t seem like he was looking for anything. 

Everything was in such a sad state. Dishes were piling up in the sink. Jackets, both Seoho’s and Dongju’s, were strewn across the couch. The plants that Dongju kept were in something of a critical condition, leaves drooping and soil dry. Geonhak’s plants, however, had been watered, pruned, and fertilized with exceptional care. Neither of them had wanted to hurt anything that reminded them of Geonhak, and so they have become a breath of fresh air within their nauseatingly cluttered living space. (Seoho kept plants, too, but they were silk and plastic. Dongju would never trust him with a real plant. So.) 

Dongju looked up at him, blinking slowly. Seoho took a deep breath.

“I have good news and bad news,” he said.

  
  


Seoho dreamed. He dreamed of moonlit skies and moonless nights, of red eyes glowing through darkness. Stakes and crossbows. He dreamed of split threads, of cards and black cats.  _ Big decisions _ , Youngjo had said. He dreamed of Geonhak and the last time he had seen him smile, and the last time he had hunted by his side. He dreamed of Hwanwoong, his lazy smile, his dismissive attitude, and clenched his fist. But, he also dreamed of the way he fought Red Eyes, of his expression when he had promised to keep Geonhak safe. Had it been pity? Compassion, even? 

And Seoho dreamed of hunting again. He dreamed of running through dark streets, his silver bolts glittering in scattered moonlight. He dreamed of coming across a vampire with its back turned. Like any other. He drew his crossbow, aimed, and held his breath. It was just like any other hunt.

Then, the vampire turned around. 

Geonhak had taken a moment to recognize him. When he did, he blinked in shock. But Seoho already had his finger on the trigger.

Seoho shifted in his sleep. Did he shoot?  _ Would  _ he shoot? Was it survival? Was there a contract?  _ Would  _ he shoot Geonhak for survival, or for a contract? Was this the  _ decision  _ he had to make?

There was no reason to shoot. Geonhak wouldn’t either, right? Even as a vampire, Geonhak would do nothing to put himself on a contract. Geonhak would never lunge at him, would never give him a  _ reason  _ to fight for survival. Would he?

Geonhak mouthed a word. Seoho did not hear it, but it looked like  _ please _ . Then, something within him changed. His eyes became a deep shade of red, just like blood, just like Red Eyes, and when he opened his mouth, his jagged canines gleamed wickedly in the moonlight,  _ just like any other-- _

And Seoho woke up screaming. 

Dongju heard him. Seoho’s door creaked, and Dongju crawled into bed next to him, whispered calming words and ran his hands through Seoho’s hair until he fell asleep again.

And then, Seoho no longer dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a shorter chapter but yeah :D hwanwoong's here and dongju knows everything so oops my summary is inaccurate now  
> youngjo's chapter is coming up next and oh boy it's gonna be so much fun. soooo much fun. and sorry about my lack of medical knowledge lmao feel free to correct me anytime literally all of this is unbeta'd


	3. youngjo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vampire and a werecat-witch living together seemed like it would simultaneously be a very successful sitcom pitch and a very bad idea in practice, but Hwanwoong and Youngjo made it work. They have known each other for a very long time; vampires were immortal, and magic did very strange things to the natural process of aging. This apartment had belonged to both of them since Hwanwoong was human, and since Youngjo only had mere sparks of magic flowing through his veins.
> 
> However, they were still subject to petty fights and trivial arguments. Perhaps this was what marriage was like. Now, they even had a kid.

As soon as Youngjo reached the front steps of his apartment, hopping up the stairs with feather-light steps, he shifted. Lithe paws became hands and feet, dark fur made way for smooth skin, and his entire body stretched. He shook himself off. No matter how many times he did it, he could never say that changing forms was much of a pleasant experience. 

Now human, he dug through his pockets for his keys, which proved unnecessary when the door gave way with one easy shove.

“Woong,” Youngjo complained, kicking off his shoes and shutting the door behind him. “What did I tell you about keeping the door locked.”

Hwanwoong was sprawled over the couch, legs crossed and feet resting on the coffee table, curled up with a book in his hands. He looked over at Youngjo incredulously.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. I’m home, and you were coming back soon.”

“It’s a question of  _ safety _ , Yeo Hwanwoong.” 

“Safety? Please. I can maul anyone who comes in.”

Youngjo gave him a Look. “Don’t talk back to your elders. Also, feet off the furniture.”

Hwanwoong huffed but conceded. 

A vampire and a werecat-witch living together seemed like it would simultaneously be a very successful sitcom pitch and a very bad idea in practice, but Hwanwoong and Youngjo made it work. They have known each other for a very long time; vampires were immortal, and magic did very strange things to the natural process of aging. This apartment had belonged to both of them since Hwanwoong was human, and since Youngjo only had mere sparks of magic flowing through his veins. 

However, they were still subject to petty fights and trivial arguments. Perhaps this was what marriage was like. Now, they even had a kid.

“Where’s the newborn? Is he asleep?” 

Hwanwoong nodded, gesturing at the guest room. “He’s been practically comatose for the past day. He got up once, but I gave him some blood and he went right back to bed.” 

It was fascinating, how much newborn vampires acted exactly like newborn humans, minus the pooping. Sometimes, Youngjo and Hwanwoong were kept up all night by Geonhak’s nightmares, his cries of starvation, and the brief moments of lucidity wherein he had nihilistic breakdowns about life and the meaning of mortality. Other times, Geonhak blacked out for entire days, laid there like a pale corpse. Truly, it was just like raising a kid.

“The past day, huh. Do we know if he’s still alive?” Youngjo asked idly, picking up a flask on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know. I’ll make sure to check his breathing-- oh wait.” 

Youngjo walked over and lightly slapped Hwanwoong on his shoulder. 

“It’s fine,” Hwanwoong continued. “I can see if he still has a heartbeat--  _ oh wait _ .”

Youngjo rolled his eyes and wandered back over to the kitchen. Neither of them cooked often, and Hwanwoong found it hard to reach the upper shelves, so half of the cupboards were used to store piles upon piles of Youngjo’s potion ingredients. He reached and picked up some garlic flowers stored eloquently in a wrinkly ziploc bag, as well as a plastic tupperware filled with dried wolfsbane. Truly, half of being a magician was the aesthetic.

“Oh! By the way, I’ve got some good news!”

Youngjo turned around. “So,  _ does  _ Geonhak still have a heartbeat?”

“What? No.” Hwanwoong closed his book, sat up straight, and clasped his hands together. “You know his friend? Seoho? I met him. Apparently, he thought Geonhak was dead or something. Had a whole breakdown when I told him he became a vamp.” 

“Oh yeah. I saw.” 

Hwanwoong sputtered. “Were you snooping again?”

“I just happened to walk by,” Youngjo said, feigning innocence. He filled a pot with water and flipped on the stove. “Just a note, though. You might want to show a bit more compassion. Joke a bit less. Kid’s going through a lot.” 

“I  _ know _ ,” Hwanwoong groaned. “Trust me, I feel bad.”

Geonhak and Seoho. About a week ago, when the two of them had walked into Youngjo’s magic shop for divination, Youngjo already knew that they would be an interesting case. Vampire hunters-- skilled, too, if Youngjo’s observations were any indication. But all this was a bit misleading. Of course Youngjo knew who they were, and of course he has seen them before.

As soon as the water began to simmer, he tossed the herbs into the pot, then covered it with a lid.

“I’m gonna go check on him. Is that okay?”

Hwanwoong nodded mutely, picking up his book again. “Be careful. He’s asleep, but he may bite.” 

 

Hunters. Mildly competent civilians who worked at the city’s beck and call, but never quite under their jurisdiction. Most of them fizzled out and died about a month into their ‘career’, owing to the fact that they were too careless, too cocky, or simply too unprepared. So, of course, when two hunters manage to not only survive but also take down  _ dozens  _ of vamps over several years, much of the city began to keep an eye on them-- especially those who reside in Moonlight. 

Geonhak and Seoho lived near Moonlight. It made sense. Most crimes of a supernatural nature occurred along that street. It was fairly unregulated, owing to the overwhelming presence of arcane activities largely driving city officials and enforcers away. Youngjo ran into them often, both in daylight and in moonlight, saw them enough to recognize their faces, though they never really recognized him. He supposed that he was hardly the only black cat roaming around a street full of witches and weres. 

Although they had been quite successful as hunters, Youngjo still never really expected them to last very long. Those expectations died when he had a chance to examine Geonhak’s thread; long, winding, the likes of which he had only ever seen in his own. Or Hwanwoong’s.

And then, when Hwanwoong had come home with a weak, trembling, Geonhak in his arms, everything had clicked into place. 

They took care of him the best they could. Hwanwoong had promised Seoho such, and any promise Hwanwoong made became his responsibility. Youngjo, however, wouldn’t let him do it alone. They had Hwanwoong’s supply, but they knew that would hardly be enough. So, he spent hours draining litres of his blood into bags, quite nearly passing out in the process. Weres had healing properties that could only be matched by vampires themselves, which was partially why they made up such a large percentage of blood donors, but even they had a limit. 

And it paid off. Within a day, Geonhak had stopped trembling, and within three, he began to exhibit periods of lucidity. Instant recovery, even with so much blood at their disposal, was a pipe dream considering how long he’d gone before even  _ tasting  _ blood, but he was coming along exceptionally well despite his circumstances. 

“Hey,” Youngjo whispered, gently shutting the door behind him. Surely enough, Geonhak was still completely unconscious. There was something underneath the blankets, for sure, but they did not rise and did not fall, did not indicate breathing in the slightest. Of course. 

Youngjo looked around the room, cringing when he saw no less than five empty transfusion bags laying on the ground. At this rate, their current supply can last Geonhak for maybe another day at most. 

He sat on the foot of the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping newborn. Geonhak’s head poked out from the top of the blanket. With his eyes closed and his skin pale, his lack of breath, he really did look like an open casket corpse. With a sigh, Youngjo set a new blood bag down on the nightstand next to him, one he had retrieved from the kitchen just before coming in.

“Why did you hunt?” Youngjo muttered. Had it been a vampire-related trauma in his youth? Did he want vampires extinct? The very fact that he was a hunter was worrying, to say the least, in regards to his current condition. How would he react to it? What would he do, what would he say once the fact begins to sink in? 

Suddenly, Geonhak’s eyes fluttered open, revealing dark crimson irises. Youngjo had seen them when it was closer to the full moon. They had been like fire, piercing right through the darkness of their guest bedroom. Then, Hwanwoong had been out, searching for Seoho once again, and Youngjo had hardly been able to fight Geonhak off by himself. 

Youngjo felt his heartbeat quicken. 

This time, however, the conditions were less drastic. The moon was far from full, Hwanwoong was right outside in case of emergency, and Geonhak was much, much more stable than he had been. Plus, Youngjo had just touched garlic flowers. (Vampires don’t actually fear garlic. Youngjo just needed some consolation. Let him live.)

Geonhak opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

“Breathe,” Youngjo advised. For a moment, Geonhak startled as if realizing he hadn’t been breathing this whole time, then began to hyperventilate a bit. 

“Not like that,” Youngjo said with a light chuckle, “your voice will come out all strained.” 

“Youngjo?” Geonhak gasped, trying to sit up. “Where am I?” 

And that was the same thing he asked every time he woke up. Except usually, Geonhak would also ask Youngjo who he was. The fact that he remembered his name was a very good sign.

“You’re safe,” Youngjo assured him. “Seoho’s safe. Everything’s okay.” 

All the tension left Geonhak’s shoulders. His breathing evened out, his muscles relaxed. Of all the things Youngjo’s tried to tell him after he woke up, he’s found that this one worked the best. 

Youngjo,” Geonhak said. His voice was still shaky. “Youngjo. What happened to me?”

The door creaked open again. Geonhak jumped. 

“So you woke him up,” Hwanwoong said, sitting himself down on the rocking chair next to the bed. 

“Not on purpose,” Youngjo assured him. He lowered his voice. “I think he’s conscious, Woong. Like,  _ lucid  _ this time.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Geonhak said indignantly. 

Hwanwoong stared at him for a moment, then blinked. 

“Shit. You’re right. He is.” He, too, had his voice lowered. 

Of course, Geonhak had woken up before, but he always seemed spacey. Muddled speech, lack of memory, clear signs of a headache. 

Geonhak suddenly sat up, now fully alert. He lifted a finger weakly, pointed it at Hwanwoong. “You’re...You’re a vampire.”

“No, you,” Hwanwoong said immediately.

“What?”

Hwanwoong looked over at Youngjo. All of a sudden, Youngjo felt very, very vulnerable. It was trivial; he knew Hwanwoong would never hurt him, knew Hwanwoong would never let Geonhak hurt him while he was around, but it was an instinct, of sorts. For all intents and purposes, Youngjo was the prey, a piece of fresh meat, and the vampires were predators. 

“Well? Should we give him The Talk?” Hwanwoong asked.

Geonhak looked between them hopelessly. Youngjo nodded. 

“You’re a vampire, Geonhak. You’ve been turned.” 

“How?” 

Hwanwoong shrugged. “I don’t know. I just saw you keel over from starvation. Do you bring any garlic on hunts?” 

Geonhak gave him a blank stare. “Are you mocking me?”

“No, dude, I’m being serious. Vampires aren’t scared of garlic, but it stops the virus.” Hwanwoong waggled a finger at him. “It’s always good practice to keep some garlic solution around for wounds. But alas, it’s too late for you.”

Geonhak took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then let out a huff. 

“Whatever. It’s-- it’s whatever. You said Seoho’s alright?” He paused for a second. “Does he know?”

Youngjo and Hwanwoong nodded.

“He didn’t take the news well,” Hwanwoong admitted. “But he’s fine. I don’t think he’s been hunting since--”

Geonhak cut him off. “I need to go see him. And Dongju. I need--”

“Woah,” Youngjo stood up, blocked the exit. “Little one. We get it, you’re conscious, but you’re far from stable. What if they have cuts? What if you smell the blood in them? You’ll go feral.” 

Geonhak bristled a bit at the pet name but conceded.

“Fine,” he all but spat out. “But I want to see them. As-- as soon as possible. I need to.” 

“You will,” Hwanwoong said breezily. He reached towards the nightstand, grabbed the bag of blood, and tossed it at Geonhak. 

Geonhak caught it. He frowned, examining it for a moment. “I can’t drink this.”

Hwanwoong shrugged. “Tough luck. You already have.” 

Youngjo put a hand on Hwanwoong’s shoulder. 

“I think we should go. If he’s really lucid, if he’s really back...I think he needs time.” 

 

Someone rang the doorbell. Youngjo yawned, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. Who in the world visits people at 8 AM? 

If anyone was going to answer the door, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Hwanwoong. The vampire slept like the dead-- all he needed was a coffin to complete the aesthetic. Early morning was the rare time when Youngjo and Hwanwoong were both asleep; the sun was up, but it was much too early for Youngjo to be a functional human being. 

With a groan, Youngjo hoisted himself up from his bed and headed over to the living room. To his surprise, Geonhak was already at the door, making conversation with Youngjo’s guest.

It had been a few days since Geonhak first woke up lucid. A while ago, it would have been damn near unthinkable to let him near humans other than Youngjo, magicians or otherwise. However, after being conscious for several days on end, it seemed more and more likely that he would stay this way. Two days ago, Youngjo and Hwanwoong began to take turns taking him out at night. Now, they have begun to consider allowing him to wander in broad daylight.

“Keonhee!” Youngjo called out with a smile. Keonhee waved at him, and Geonhak turned around. 

“It’s good to see you,” Keonhee greeted. He nodded at Geonhak. “Is this the newborn you’ve been telling me about?”

Geonhak frowned. “You talk about me?”

Youngjo winked at him. “You’re so charming, how could I not?”

He could have sworn that he noticed Geonhak’s cheek color.

Keonhee grinned widely. “It’s good to meet you, Geonhak. I’m Keonhee.” He stepped up and nudged Youngjo with an elbow. “We went to magic college together.”

“Oh,” Geonhak turned to face Youngjo, mischief glimmering in his eyes. “I’d imagine you have stories, then.”

“Don’t even get me started--”

“Yeah,” Youngjo interrupted. “Don’t get him started.” He glanced from Geonhak to Keonhee and back again. 

“Seriously. Don’t.”

This only served to fuel Geonhak’s curiosity and Keonhee’s eagerness, so Youngjo changed the topic as quickly as he could.

“So, Keonhee. What brings you here so early?”

Keonhee thought for a moment, as if he had totally forgotten, and then pulled out a glass jar. 

“You see, I’m out of wormwood. I need to make something for a client and they’re expecting it tomorrow.” 

Youngjo rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You put it off until the last minute. Again.”

Keonhee shrugged sheepishly, and Geonhak raised his eyebrows. 

“One moment.” 

When Youngjo returned to the door with a bag of dried wormwood, Keonhee was busy telling Geonhak some of those stories. He could only sigh internally, look on in utter devastation as Keonhee explained in animated detail, complete with hand gestures, about the one time Youngjo had opened his notebook in class only to unleash an entire armada of toads. He had written the toad spell on a cue card so that he wouldn’t forget and subsequently left the cue card in his textbook.

“And that was just the toad incident. Don’t even get me started about the-”

“Okay, that’s quite enough.” Youngjo gently pushed Keonhee out of the doorway. Behind him, Geonhak was busy holding back giggles. “Thanks for stopping by, you’re welcome for the wormwood, I love you.” 

Then, amidst Keonhee’s protests, Youngjo shut the door in his face.

Geonhak was still leaning on the wall. He let out one more snicker but was silenced when Youngjo shot him a death stare. 

“So,” Youngjo drawled, heading over to the living room. “What are you going to do today? I can pick up some more books.” 

Geonhak bit his lip.

“Actually,” he began, “I was thinking we could. Go for a walk?”

“Well, if you have time, that is,” he stuttered out. “And-- not anywhere crowded, of course. Like, maybe the forest? The lake? The forest around the lake?”

Youngjo looked him in the eye, gaze going soft. 

“Do you think you’re ready, Geonhak?”

Geonhak looked down, fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt. Since Geonhak’s woken up, Hwanwoong has regularly been visiting the apartment he shared with two friends-- to share news, to grab supplies, the works. According to Hwanwoong, they’ve been taking the situation a bit better, even started to ask about meeting Geonhak again. 

“Yes,” Geonhak finally said. “I. I want to see the world again, Youngjo.” 

Youngjo flicked his head and walked over to the counter, grabbing his keys. He opened the door again, letting rays of morning light stream into the apartment.

“Let’s go.” 

 

Before they left, Youngjo made sure Geonhak was fed. Since it was a windy day, Youngjo had also made him wear one of his jackets-- apparently, Hwanwoong never bothered to take any jackets from his apartment-- to which Geonhak complained greatly, reasoning that he no longer had a circulatory system and muttering something about Youngjo being just as bad as Dongju, if not worse. Youngjo had scoffed in response, informing him that  _ of course  _ he still had a circulatory system and that being cold still made his body less efficient with the little blood it had. 

In the end, Youngjo had won him over. It was ridiculous, the amount of time they spent arguing over a jacket-- but Youngjo was beginning to find that this kind of thing was typical for Kim Geonhak. However, despite the very loud jacket debate that very nearly escalated to screaming, they did not manage to wake Hwanwoong. Nocturnal creatures really did sleep through anything and everything. 

Youngjo briefly wondered if Geonhak would be like that someday. As of now, he struck him as a morning person. Geonhak was always up fairly early. For a former vampire hunter, an occupation that almost indiscriminately worked the graveyard shift, that was impressive. 

At this time of the day, a few joggers ran along the forest track, although few wandered off the paved road and into nature trail leading to the lake. The undergrowth was thick, and thin streams of sunlight shone beyond the canopy. Just off the road, the trail was narrow, and Youngjo occasionally felt thorns prick at his legs. As the trail widened, the undergrowth parted, and he found that both he and Geonhak were practically covered with scratches. Luckily, as a vamp and a were, they healed quickly. In a matter of minutes, the scratches had left absolutely no scars. 

“Woah.” 

They reached the lake. It was just after the peak hours of dawn, just before regular daylight. The lake was a light blue, with hints of fire-orange and sunlight-yellow, just like the sky it reflected. 

Youngjo grinned. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Geonhak sat down on a large stone at the edge of the shore.

“Woah,” he repeated.

Youngjo picked up a rock and tossed it. It skipped twice.

“It’s one of my favorite places. Hard to get here as a biped, but I thought I’d suffer with you.”

Geonhak leaned over to the ground, searching for a rock of his own to toss. When he did, it skipped five times. Youngjo blinked at him, impressed.

“Thanks for that,” Geonhak said drily.

When Youngjo found that he could hardly get his rocks to skip more than three times, he hissed in frustration. Geonhak was looking incredulously at him, carefully examining his every attempt (read: failure), and his cheeks grew hot.

“Here,” Geonhak said, picking up another rock. “Your form is weird. Put your thumb on top of the stone, not on the edge.”

Youngjo copied him, observed the way he tossed. This time, his stone skipped four times. But Geonhak’s stone skipped seven times.

“Not bad.” Geonhak shot Youngjo a winning smile and-- well, maybe it wasn’t just stones that were skipping-- Youngjo  _ definitely  _ felt his heart skip a few beats just now.

“Not as good as you,” Youngjo huffed. 

Geonhak shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It takes practice.”

They stayed there until the sun rose high into the sky. Eventually, Youngjo managed to get a stone to skip five times, at which time he earned another winning smile from Geonhak. Youngjo thought he could do this forever. But--

“Hey,” Youngjo said. “It’s almost noon. How about getting some food?”

Geonhak blinked. “Food? I’m--”

Youngjo held back a laugh. Of course, Geonhak hasn’t eaten anything since his turning. Of course Geonhak didn’t know that he could still eat human food. He should’ve told him earlier.

“Of course you can eat! I don’t think Hwanwoong would’ve survived this long if he couldn’t.” Youngjo rolled his eyes. “Honestly, sometimes I wished he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t steal all my food.” 

That brought a slight smile to Geonhak’s face. 

“In that case…” He thought for a moment. “I think I’m in the mood for ice cream. Can we get some?”

“Of course!”

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he could deny Geonhak anything.

They went to a place that was small but popular, a place that Youngjo had long considered his favorite. Geonhak was a bit nervous about being there at peak hours, even offering to stay outside, but Youngjo assured him that it would be okay, that he trusted him. To his surprise, that had worked. 

Youngjo nodded at the menu. “Which one do you want?” He nudged Geonhak. “My treat.”

“Really? It’s fine, I can--”

“Consider it thanks,” Youngjo said quickly. “For teaching me to skip stones. Seriously, it really helped.”

“Oh. Okay.” Geonhak thought for a moment. “In that case, I’ll get strawberry.”

Cute. Of course, Youngjo didn’t say that out loud. 

“Two strawberries, please. Waffle cones,” he told the cashier. 

Geonhak looked over at him, surprised.

“You like strawberry, too?”

Youngjo hummed. “Not usually, but I thought I’d try it.”

Truthfully, strawberry was usually a bit sweet for his taste. He preferred coffee, or mint, the flavor he usually got when out with Hwanwoong for the express purpose of pissing him off. (“Why the hell would you eat  _ toothpaste _ ?”) But when their cones were ready, Youngjo concluded that it wasn’t so bad. Especially when Geonhak seemed to like it so much, taking entire bites out of his ice cream like it was a sandwich. 

By the time they got home, it was late in the afternoon. Hwanwoong was finally up, coat on as if ready to head out.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Youngjo cooed, tossing his jacket onto the couch. “Where are you going so early?”

“Ha ha.” Hwanwoong slid into his shoes. He nodded at Geonhak. “You took him out today? How’d it go?”

“It went really great, actually.” He looked over at Geonhak, beaming. “Incident-free. Didn’t even show signs of one. Not that I expected any less.”

Hwanwoong blinked, then smiled. “That’s good. I was just heading over to Seoho and Dongju’s. If it’s okay with Geonhak, should I tell them he’s good for a visit?” 

Geonhak paled. 

Youngjo put a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, the vampire seemed to freeze completely, as if turned to stone. 

“If you need more time, it’s alright. We can wait,” he told him, as gently as he could.

“No, that’s-- I mean, it’s fine, that’ll be great.” He swallowed. “I want to see them again.”

Youngjo beamed even harder this time. He began to pull Geonhak into a hug but ceased when Geonhak seemed to freeze again. Geonhak paused for a moment. A second later, he shyly opened his arms, and Youngjo dove into them with a grin, squeezing him hard. 

“I’ll be going, then.” Hwanwoong pushed open the door. “Geonhak, do you need anything from the apartment?”

“Get him a jacket,” Youngjo said. 

Geonhak scowled. “For the last time, I don’t need a jacket.” 

“It’s for your own good, Geonhak.”

Hwanwoong wrinkled his nose. “You two are gross. I’m getting you a jacket. Farewell.” 

And before they knew it, before Geonhak could protest again, Hwanwoong was gone. The two of them spent the rest of the day watching movies, Geonhak with lounging on his side with his legs over Youngjo’s lap, feet propped up on the armrest. (Usually, Youngjo would have warned him to take their feet off the couch. But he let it slide. Just this once.)

“What are you thinking about?” Youngjo asked idly, taking a sip from his wine glass. 

Geonhak hummed. “Nothing much.” He took a sip from his own glass, which was filled with blood instead of wine. 

“It’s just. Two week ago, I wouldn’t have imagined being here. Being like this. But now.” He glanced at Youngjo, and his eyes were so filled with warmth that Youngjo felt himself smile.

“Now everything just feels. Normal. Like it’s going to be alright.”

Youngjo nodded. “I’m glad.” 

“It’s all because of you, you know. You and Hwanwoong.” Geonhak sat up straight. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if Hwanwoong never found me. If you never took me in.”

Youngjo closed his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it. Really.” He put his glass down on the coffee table. “We wouldn’t have left you alone to die.”

And Youngjo tried not to think of that night in his store, the reading, the way Geonhak’s string had extended so impossibly, had tried to force itself out the door. He tried not to think about the way his own string, invisible to others but long like eternity, had tried to force its way into the room. 

Every time he read it, every time he checked it, his string was always trying to find something. Take him somewhere. It grew forever, as magicians lived for a very long time, but it never really found an end. Though Youngjo had friends, had people who would stay with him for however long the thread of his life would last, the string had always felt lonely, in a way. Incomplete.

So, when Hwanwoong had found Geonhak on the street, carried him into their house, lugged him up their doorstep, had it been destiny? 

“What are  _ you  _ thinking about?” Geonhak asked, snapping Youngjo back into reality.

Youngjo paused, then sighed. 

“Nothing important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot...thickens? i was hit w a bad case of writer's block so truthfully i have no idea what happened in this chapter. it's also minimally edited so like beware
> 
> uh if you reread the previous chapters you might notice a certain kitty wandering around in random places so i think i've fulfilled my youngjo-saying-nyang quota for this fic ^^ next chapter is woong's so please look forward to it! as always you can find me on twitter @toemoon and i might open a cc at some point :DD

**Author's Note:**

> hi! im really excited about this fic but just a note im really bad at updating lmao. 
> 
> please drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed this and feel free to drop by my twt @toemoon :D i don't bite!


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